


Oh Ms. Fox

by lusilly



Series: Earth-28 [16]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Awkward Boners, F/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Unrequited Crush, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1327126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusilly/pseuds/lusilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian is interning as Tam’s secretary. Tam is seeing Jason Todd. One time, she is….seeing Jason in her office, and they are so fucking loud that Damian can’t concentrate, and is also a little [a lot] indecently turned on.</p><p>(Tim also really needs a report from Tam, like, tonight, so, there’s that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Ms. Fox

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by tumblr user yancybecket: "write damian tugging it in the bathroom i think that is an important story that needs to be told"

            Damian was absolutely still. He only realized that his teeth were tightly clenched when a dull pain began throbbing in his jaw, and he allowed himself a deep breath, releasing the tension at his mouth, glancing around the office. It wasn’t as if Tam and Jason were being deliberately loud, in the room adjacent - although Damian wouldn’t have been surprised if Jay were, just to bother him - but he couldn’t seem to shut off the constant heightened sensory awareness that he’d developed from his training long ago. He could hear Tam’s restrained moaning and even Jay’s loud, obnoxious breathing; at one point, it sounded like something fell over, clattering onto the floor beneath them, and then they both laughed loudly, but briefly. In his mind’s eye, he saw Jason silencing her laughter with a kiss.

            He loosened his tie slightly, the temperature of the room suddenly warm and oppressive.

            Wiping a hand across his face, thinking how utterly miserable this job was, he began to get up, to go to the window and prop it open more, hungry for a breeze in the stale, dead Gotham air. Suddenly, he became aware of a tugging deep in his navel, and a hardness in his lap.

            He sat back down, and could physically feel the blood rushing to his face (to his face? From his face, down to his groin, more likely).

            For a few moments, he did nothing, sitting there stock-still. Behind him, Jay’s voice called an emphatic, “Aw,  _fuck!_ ” and Tam instantly shushed him.

            The phone rang. Grateful for the distraction, Damian instantly snatched it up. “Yes, hello,” he said, and, oh,  _Christ_ , did his voice just crack? “You’ve reached the office of Neon Knights Regional Director Tam Fox, how can I help you?”

            A laugh on the other line. “Did your voice just crack?” asked Tim, mercilessly. “What are you, thirteen?”

            Damian closed his eyes, only half sure that Tam and Jay were quiet enough to not be heard over the phone. “Why are you calling, Timothy. Your office is one floor away.”

            “I’m in between meetings, no time to visit. Just get Tam to finish those financial records for me by tonight, OK? I totally forgot to remind her earlier.”

            “I’ll let her know.”  
            “Is she busy?”

            Damian considered this. But his fear of Tam’s wrath outweighed the potential entertainment value of interrupting she and Jay mid-coitus, so he answered, “Yes, she’s with a…client.” Inwardly, he cringed. “A, uh, partner. As it is.”

            “A NK partner? Who?”

            “Didn’t you say you had a meeting?”

            “Yeah, yeah, OK. Just make sure I get the report.”

            “I’ll do my very, utmost best.”

            “OK. Go back to fetching her coffee and making your beloved spreadsheets.”

            Damian wanted to say, “Fuck off, Tim,” but he didn’t because he was on a business line and he wasn’t sure he could say “Fuck” without thinking about Jason and Tam in the room behind him, and he really actively did not want to think about that. So he said, “I hope your secretary poisons you.” Tim laughed, and hung up the phone.

            Just as he lowered the phone, in the other room, Tam cried out Jason’s name.

            Damian considered lowering his face into his arms and thinking about how terrible this entire situation was turning out to be, but instead he sat there, flipping a pen around and around between his fingers. He glanced at the clock, then the window, then the door to the office, and then, subtly, nonchalantly, as if trying to fool himself into thinking he wasn’t doing it, one hand dropped beneath the desk and, delicately at first, he pressed it in between his legs. For one single second, his eyes flickered shut, and then he gently palmed himself through his slacks, and then he immediately stopped and whipped his hand away as if it’d been burned, placing both palms flat on the desk before him, realizing with horror that this was no random boner, and that an erection like this  _needed_  to be rubbed out.

            He turned to the computer, hesitated, and then typed “murder scene” into the Google search part, hit  _Images_. For a brief, shining second, he felt a welling of disgust in his belly.

            And then Jason shouted something unintelligible, and there was an odd, repetitive banging sound, and Damian literally said out loud, “Oh my _fucking_  God.”

            He exited out of the browser and got up, awkwardly but only slightly attempting to hide his erection, and he went straight to the door of Tam’s office and held up a fist as if to knock. Just do it. Knock and yell at them and they’ll be done and you can go back, as Tim had suggested, to fetching Tam coffee and designing spreadsheets (something in the back of his mind thought vaguely,  _Fuck_ you Tim, this company’s finances depend on those spreadsheets).

            He did not knock. Through the frosted glass, he could see the silhouettes of-

            He turned away abruptly, face bursting with heat.

            Then he went back to his desk and, without sitting down, took a blank sheet of paper out of the printer and precisely, deliberately, wrote  _BACK IN 10 MINS_  on it. If Tam or Jay could peel themselves off of one another long enough to come outside and see the sign, at least they would know that Damian had heard them, and they would feel ashamed. So Damian hoped.

            He headed to the nearest public restroom, which was just outside his own office (which was more of a waiting room for Tam’s office) and across the hall. Fortunately, it was late afternoon on a Friday, and most of the rest of the floor had gone home already. It was, as always, very much like Tam to work late. For a second Damian found himself admiring Tam’s work ethic, and then, as the restroom door closed behind him and he adjusted the bulge between his legs, the image of Tam working flashed behind his eyes, and then it was Tam in her office, and then it was Tam and Jay in her office, and then there were clothes discarded on the floor and Damian imagined he could hear her shouting a name, again, except this time it wasn’t Jay’s, it was…

            Damian went to the sink and turned on the cold water all the way. When he put his hands underneath the steady flow of water, the cold seemed to burn, bearing down on the inside of his wrists, cooling the blood as it passed through his veins. He lowered his head and splashed water onto his face, closing his eyes, willing his arousal away. It did not work, which he had anticipated; he had never known himself to come back down without _actually_  coming, when he got this bad.

            He felt like a dirty teenager, and suddenly it occurred to him that he should have brought his phone with him - his personal phone, not the company one, or the commlink provided by his father. That way he could’ve texted Nell, asked her to meet him, fuck, could’ve asked her to come in and hang out underneath his desk. That’d show Tam. For a moment he genuinely considered going back to his desk and fishing that phone out, if only - God help him, he was terrible and he knew it - if only for some light sexting. ( _Sexting?_  O, how the mighty have fallen.)

            He turned to glance at the rest of the bathroom. There were two stalls. He went back to the door; there was no lock. Part of him wondered why that was and filed a note away in his mind to address that at some point in the future. He could just imagine pitching it to Tim. “ _Well, really, if one’s boss is getting fucked out of her mind in the office adjacent to one’s own, and one can’t help but have an incredibly active libido and also be nursing a giant, immature crush on her - where_ else _does one go to get one’s rocks off? Shouldn’t we be concerned for the sexual health of this hypothetical, horny, terrible, terrible teenager?_ ”

            Damian shook his head. There were showers in the fitness club on the first floor. Could he get all the way down there, boner undetected, take an icy-cold shower, and get back up here? Reasonably, he thought, he could. But then he didn’t, and he slipped into the larger handicapped bathroom stall and locked it behind him. With distaste, he looked at the simple toilet before him. His mother did not genetically engineer him into near perfection for this. He did not spend  _years_  training his body and mind to be sharp, effective, and practically invincible, to be reduced to masturbating in a public bathroom at work. To the erotic fantasy of his brother and his boss fucking. ( _And in that moment, his shame was infinite._ ) As he unzipped, he briefly pondered how he compared to Jason. Not that he’d actively tried to catch a glimpse of Jay’s junk, but over the years, what with the vigilante lifestyle, the changing of costumes, the tight pants Jay was so fond of, the communal showers in the Cave, he had a pretty good idea of where his endowment stood in relation to his brothers’. And sure, Jay might be gifted in that department, but Damian had other sexual gifts to offer Tam, if the opportunity ever arose. He’d mastered his gag reflex _years_  ago-

            He then realized how profoundly useless that would be for Tam, and for one single terrible moment he thought about how it might be potentially of some use were Jay involved as well, and then the shame swelled up in him, but, ah,  _fuck_ , his cock hardened slightly and Damian tried to think about something else (unsuccessfully).

            Refusing to sit down - he hoped this would be quick - Damian planted one forearm solidly against the wall, reaching down to touch himself through his underwear, and then, with a silent, inward sigh, he tugged down on the waistband, his cock lifting slightly in the open air. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against his arm on the wall, his other hand cupped at his balls, gently squeezing the base of his cock.

            “Fuck me,” he whispered, because he hated himself, but then it occurred to him the other context of the phrase, and he bit his lip slightly, allowing himself to pump upwards along the length of his cock, letting out a long breath as he did so. Eyes closed, a whole catalogue of possible fantasies flickered through his mind, from the most juvenile - ugh, the image of Dick in the cowl crossed his mind, and he felt a rush of nostalgia for his twisted thirteen-year-old fantasies - to the most sordid - writhing bodies, faces obscured by masks; his stomach lurched slightly and before he knew it, his hand was pumping rhythmically along his shaft, imagining warm mouths, cunts and asses - he was  _terrible_ , he thought, vaguely, somewhere in the depths of his mind - he thought, with a twinge of pain, of Iris, of her hand vibrating along his cock,  _fuck_  - then of Colin,  _damn_  he wanted to be fucked like that again, it had been too long - and then of sweet Nell, sweet, willing, eager Nell-

            Then Tam, then Tam and Jay, then Tam and Jay and him in her office, and his hips began to rock back and forth, thrusting into his hand, fucking his fist; he groaned, pulling his forehead away from his arm and pressing his palm flat against the bathroom wall. Eyes closed tightly, he gritted his teeth, his hand sped up on his cock, and he imagined at once fucking and being fucked ( _exactly how anatomically possible and/or comfortable would that be?_ , the rational part of his brain asked, but then he thought something vaguely along the lines of  _Fuck anatomical logic!_ ) and his orgasm pulsed through him, shooting down from his spine and erupting onto his hand, warm and sticky.

            He rode the high for a few seconds, and then it ended, and he was left standing in the handicapped bathroom stall in the public restroom in the building in which he worked, his flaccid cock hanging out of his pants, one hand (and - ah, shit, there was a spot on the wall too) covered in semen.

            After he cleaned himself up, he returned to the office, silently praying to some kind of hypothetical deity for which he harbored minor disdain that Tam would be done. When he entered the office, it seemed calm at first. He moved to his desk, took down the small sign, which had presumably been unseen.

And then there was a groan and he was  _sure_  he heard, “Right there.  _Right_ there,” and he sighed very, very loudly, hoping that they could hear him. He went to his desk and rooted around in one of the drawers for his phone. Opened his messages to Nell. Most of them were only a few words, specifying a place or a time. He ignored the sharp pang of guilt and then almost typed something asking her to show up, asking her if she wanted to have some very loud, very obnoxious office sex, which may or may not devolve into a foursome/orgy,  _fuck_ , did he just think that?

He put the phone away. In his experience, orgies inevitably ended up with him sucking somebody’s cock, and he had no desire to share that particular intimacy with Jason Todd.

            So he sat there at his desk. Nobody else called. He tried focusing on the spreadsheets, but he was up-to-date on current financial records, and also he kept getting totally distracted by the racket going on in the room behind him. Just out of interest and because he could concentrate on nothing, he poked around on the internet. He visited an old blog he used to manage. Porn. More porn than he remembered. It was at least a small relief that he had always been this horny.

            It did not appear that Tam and Jay were quitting anytime soon. Damian glanced at the clock with a distinct sense of envy. He was not used to sex taking this long. His preferred method was much more efficient. The moment he thought this, it occurred to him that maybe he had, in fact, been doing sex completely wrong. The idea terrified him.

            Ten minutes later he had almost managed to completely distract himself, scrolling through TV drama recaps and playing music just loud enough to drown out most of the gentle groans coming from the other room. He wondered - marveled, really - for not the first time at the fact that they were still going at it. He remembered that at some point he had to ask Tam about the records that Tim had asked for, and then he thought about Tim, and then he remembered the pretty girl who sat outside Tim’s office. God, what was her name. Anna or something. He went to the company website, looked up Tim’s name; his secretary’s email was listed, as with all company emails, with last name and department. No first name was mentioned. Damn. Then he considered it, and turned off the music. The second he did so, from inside the room he heard Jay’s voice, husky and low: “ _Ma’am, you have the right to remain silent_ …”

            Damian had to physically place a hand over his mouth to prevent him from shouting something vulgar in response. And then he set up the small sign again, and headed upstairs. The door to the stairwell always stuck and it smelled strange in there, but he was not yet so profoundly corporate-lazy that he’d take the elevator up a single floor. It was the little victories, he thought, which kept him so sane.

            Heading up the stairs, he adjusted his tie slightly, slicked back his hair. ‘Sane.’ Like jerking off to one’s boss in a public bathroom.

            Damian was glad to see that the door to Tim’s office was also closed, and it sounded like he was in a serious meeting with serious people, and there was no sex involved, which was a relief. Tim’s secretary, Anna or Ada or something, sat primly at her desk. She was maybe five years older than Damian, possibly less (but also likely more). He sidled into the room, grinning what he hoped appeared shyly. “Um, hello,” he began sheepishly. He intended for it to sound sheepish. He was acutely unfamiliar with the feeling, but he thought he could fake it pretty well. “Is my brother available?” That always got to women.  _My brother_. Like Damian gave one fucking flying rat’s ass about that dumbass.

Damian  _lived_  for the satisfaction of the jolt in peoples’ eyes when they saw him, when they glanced his body up and down, physically arrested by his good looks. “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “He’s in a meeting right now.”

“Oh,” replied Damian, moving towards the desk. “Could I possibly wait here? It’s kind of important.” The secretary didn’t say anything, and he flashed her a grin. “Family business.”

“I can call him out if-”

“No, no,” said Damian, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’ll wait.”

It was a few minutes later that the door to Tim’s office opened, and whomever Tim had been meeting with came out, shuffling out of the room. The conversation between them immediately freezing, Damian didn’t glance around at the door, but the secretary - turned out her name was Zoe, where Damian had gotten Anna from, he didn’t know -  looked up, and so probably didn’t catch his immediate expression of distaste.

“Damian,” said Tim, sounding taken aback.

“Tim,” said Damian enthusiastically, turning around to look at him. “Excellent. Just the man I was looking for.”

            “Looking?” repeated Tim, raising an eyebrow. “For what?”

            It occurred to Damian for the first time that he hadn’t prepared some bullshit excuse as to why he was up here. “It’s not important,” he said, shaking his head. “Merely exchanging some important secretarial information.”

            “Oh, it’s all right,” said Zoe, looking between them. “I don’t want to interrupt.” To Tim, she added, “He said it was… _family_  business.”

            When Tim glanced at Damian again, it was with a certain expression, wordlessly asking if he was there about their family’s extracurricular activities, but Damian, without looking at him, gave only a slight shake of his head, so small Zoe certainly didn’t notice it. And then Tim looked at Zoe, looked at Damian sitting on her desk, leaning over towards her, and said, “OK. First of all, Damian, this is a workplace, not the living room. Get off the desk.” Damian began to protest, but Tim ignored him, “Secondly, did you come up here to give me Tam’s reports?”

            “No,” said Damian. “I did not. Obviously I’m here to romance young Zoe here, and hopefully whisk her off into the sunset. On horseback, if possible.” Zoe laughed, but Tim got the impression Damian’s deadpan tone was not completely sarcastic.

            Zoe began, “I’m older than  _you_ -” but trailed off as Tim spoke again.

            “If Tam’s reports aren’t in my hand right now,” he began, “then why did she go home?”

            “She didn’t,” replied Damian scathingly (but he was no longer sitting on Zoe’s desk, at least). “She’s in her office, if you’re so concerned.”

            “If Tam is in her office, then why are you, her secretary, not sitting outside her office answering phone calls and performing other various secretarial duties?”

            Damian looked offended. “I’m an unpaid intern. The level of work you assign me is literally illegal-”

            “You’re  _unpaid_ -?” asked Zoe incredulously, but Tim just took hold of Damian’s arm and headed out the door with him.

            “This is demeaning,” said Damian, as Tim dragged him along. “This is harassment.”

            “You were harassing my secretary.”

            “She was into me.”

            Tim let out a loud sigh. “When did you turn into such a creep?”

            “I don’t know,” Damian shot back. “When did you become so terrible?”

            “Trick question. Always.”

            He shoved Damian into the elevator, and then got in as well. Cautiously, Damian asked, “Where are you going?”

            Glancing at Damian, Tim answered, “Tam. I’m not kidding about those reports.”

            Damian stared at him for a second, and then began, “I… she’s busy right now.”

            “With what?”

            “A meeting.”

            “With who?”

            “Somebody important enough that she would not want you to barge in uninvited.”

            “I own the foundation. I think whoever it is, they’ll forgive me.”

            The elevator  _ding_ ed, and the door opened. “ _Really_ ,” said Damian derisively, stepping out. “You have such a profoundly inescapable need for control that you can’t wait for your regional manager, whom you trust with direction of  _all_  Gotham Neon Knights activities, to finish her meeting and send a report to you? Timothy, please. And I thought my father was the control freak.”

            Tim looked at Damian. The elevator door began to shut, and he reached out and placed a hand on it; it opened again, then stayed open. Tim continued to watch Damian.

            And then he removed his hand and stepped back into the elevator, adjusting his jacket. “Just do your job,” he said, and then the doors closed on him, and Damian breathed easier.

            On his way back to the office, he stopped again at the restroom. It was a very nice restroom, something he hadn’t been in the right mindset to appreciate earlier. Black marble tiles, a lighter black for the stalls. Mirrors accentuated with gold finishes. Very tasteful. Really, if he had to choose a public restroom best suited for jerking off, it was probably this one.

            He looked in the mirror. He wasn’t too upset he that nothing had come out of his visit with Zoe. She was actually a lovely girl, and he’d had no idea that she was a part-time law student. He filed a mental note to look into Wayne scholarships, see if he couldn’t dig up a grant for her.

            Jay and Tam were no doubt still at it. He did not want to go back to that office, but there was so little else to do. He could go to the gym on the first floor and work out. But he wasn’t supposed to work out in front of people, his strength and physique potentially incriminating. Down to the café? Because that’s what he wanted to be doing, while his boss was getting fucked into next week, go down to the employee café and eat a bagel. He could just stand here in the bathroom for the next few days. Presumably they would be done by then.

            He’d known Tam was seeing Jason, but he had no idea it was this kind of relationship, the kind where he’d show up at her office and bend her over the desk.

             _Ah_ , that did it.

            Damian’s hand flickered to his crotch again. Bent over the desk, what an image. Tam was hot, and Damian liked her, a lot – more than he should, honestly, because yeah, it’s not really like jerking it while thinking of her was a completely new experience – but there was just something about the image, the position, about the action. Probably, he thought, it had to do with some strange nigh-Oedipal genetic predisposition to dominance, to power, et cetera, et cetera, but Damian had no time for introspective psychoanalysis, not when his hand was already down his pants. What the _fuck?_  He was nearly nineteen years old. Twice in one day was bad enough, but twice in – barely an  _hour?_

            What the fuck ever, he thought, supporting himself with one palm planted on the counter. Someone could walk in, but even as the thought crossed his mind, his arousal only heightened; flexed his wrist, twisting along the head, down his length, squeezing at his base. He groaned once, quietly, then again, emphatically. He wished someone would come in, so they could get down on their knees and suck his cock. He let out a strangled yelp at the thought of this,  _fuck_ , he missed getting blown, what a fucking shame that Colin was seeing that Lucas kid now.

            No build-up this time. He pumped his cock up and down, eyes still open, occasionally wandering up to the mirror, watching himself with an odd, detached curiosity. He could see the length of his cock, hard and veined underneath his grip. Somehow the sight was incredibly erotic, and he rode the feeling, keeping it deep in the bottom of his stomach. He imagined someone else with him, leaning back on the counter, and he rutted up against it, then hissed and practically cried out at the harsh cold of the marble. Poor decision, OK. But he still liked the image of someone sitting there on the counter. Again, possibilities ran through his head, but it was just a formality. He could list on one hand the things he  _wouldn’t_  give to be in Tam’s office right now. In Jay’s place? He considered this for just one moment, narrowing his eyes at himself in the mirror. Then he decided, Yeah, in Jay’s place. The three of them would be one too many.

            He let out a grunting breath, hips jerking, eyes still open and staring into the mirror, fixed on his cock in his hand. Leaning over, he took his other hand away, cupping his balls, tightly pressing his lips together. Don’t shout. Do not shout. What if Tim comes down again?

            That was more effective than he’d anticipated, and his cock drooped slightly, sadly, in his hand; he swore, speeding up the movement, thinking about sexy things again. Tam. Tam Tam Tam. Her name pulsed through him, punctuating each thrust of his hips. God, she was so fucking hot. He wondered why she’d settled for Jason, especially when Damian was right there. Her intern. Her eighteen-year-old intern who brings her coffee and drops snippy comments about her job performance. OK, so Damian got it; didn’t mean he still couldn’t dream.

            He shuddered, finally closing his eyes. He took his hand away from his balls and slammed his palm, hard, on the black counter. The cold was sharp, but also refreshing. He twisted his fist around the head again, squeezing and rotating his wrist, and then, quickly and with force, he pumped down the length, hips jerking forward involuntarily now. Throwing his head back, he let out another breath that was almost a groan. He wished, so deeply, so profoundly, that he was not alone.

            It was far less satisfying, this time, when he came. His orgasm was dull and relatively weak, and afterwards he looked at his hand with distaste, then inspected his slacks. Damn. That would stain. It took him a few minutes to clean up, blotting at his pants with toilet paper – there were no paper towels in Wayne Enterprises buildings, all hand dryers. More environmentally friendly, or something. Damian glowered angrily at the automated thing.

            When he walked back into his office – rhythmic thumping, from the other room. A groan of pleasure. “Are you joking?” he asked out loud, irritated. There was, of course, no reply. He moved behind his desk, and sat down, then stood back up again, hands on his hips. Then he raised his voice and he called, “Really?  _Really_.”

            The thumping stopped. A wave of unexpected anxiety washed over Damian. Jason’s anger he welcomed, but if Tam was genuinely upset with him…

            And then the door to Tam’s office cracked open. Damian’s gaze snapped around, and he gaped as Jason poked his head out, short hair ruffled and unruly, obviously naked as far as Damian could tell.

            “Hey,” said Jay, grinning. “This one’s for you, kiddo.”

            He slammed the door and a second later, Tam moaned; Jay called, loudly, “Aw, yeah, babe!  _Aw_  – yeah-” and Tam’s moans escalated to a whine and-

            “Fuck you!” shouted Damian.

            “Next time!” shouted Jay in reply, and Damian fumed.

             _Fuck_ them. Fuck them both. At the same time. One on top of the other, Damian wasn’t picky. He sat down and played his obnoxious music loudly, then searched for the absolute most unsexy music he could find, and played that at full volume. Then, determinedly, he unbuttoned his pants again, shoving a hand forcefully down to his limp cock, angry that he hadn’t at least waited until he got back to the office before he went again. He swore he could hear them laughing, and  _dammit_ , he was going to get off one more time, just to show them-

            Turning around in his seat and smacking the wall behind him with his free hand, he called, “You better at  _least_  buy me dinner after-”

            “ _Damian?_ ”

            Damian whipped around, immediately retracting his hand from his pants. As the unsexy music played on, Tim stared at Damian, mouth hanging open. “Um,” began Damian, “yes. Hello, Tim.”

            “What the – are you playing the  _Gumby_ theme song?”

            “I don’t know,” replied Damian immediately. “What’s Gumby?”

            “Can you turn it off?”

            “No.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because…”

            Damian looked at Tim, then at his computer screen. He could not quite tell if he could hear any other sounds coming from the adjacent office, but he was not going to risk it, not with Tim in the room. He closed his mouth, looking back at Tim expectantly.

            Tim stared at him, brow creased in concern. “It’s six o’clock,” he said, his voice raised, over the music. “I should’ve just, earlier… You can go home. I want to go home too, which is why I’m here, about to interrupt Tam’s meeting, so I can get my report and be done for the day.”

            “Don’t do that,” said Damian.

            “Why not?”

            “Just,” said Damian, shaking his head, “for your own sake.”

            “Are you covering for her?” demanded Tim suddenly, looking half angry, half concerned. “If she’s not in, Damian, it’s not like I’m a high school principal about to assign her detention – she’s a grown woman-”

            “That is,” said Damian gravely, “precisely my concern-”

            Tim strode forward, and Damian got to his feet, stepping in front of the door protectively; the song changed to what Tim recognized as the Captain Planet closing credits song, and it occurred to him that Damian would have absolutely no idea what it was, and Tim stopped, glancing behind Damian, far more confused than he usually was.

            “Is there something going on here?” asked Tim suspiciously.

            “Tim,” began Damian, pleading with him. The computer sang,  _Captain Planet! He’s a hero! Gonna take pollution down to zero!_  “Please just walk away from this.”

            “What are you  _talking_  about?”

            “I am too wiped out for this right now. Did you know I’ve already brought myself to orgasm  _twice_ today-”

            “ _What_ -?”

            “Sorry. I’m sorry, that was far too much information. Hazy from the afterglow, I suppose.”

            “Damian, this is-”

            “None of your business? Yes. Goodnight. I’ll bring you those reports ASAP.”

            “I’m concerned now. You have officially concerned me.”

            “Good _night_ , Tim.”

            Tim paused, turning his head slightly. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

            “No,” said Damian.

            “Do you – I’m pretty sure I heard-”

            The Transformers theme song began to play, just as the door to Tam’s office opened. In a haughty, smirking flourish, Jason Todd appeared, grinning at his brothers. He hummed along to the theme, passing them. “Tim,” he said, nodding to them both, tipping an invisible hat. “Damian.” His eyes flickered down Damian’s body, and he added, “Li’l D.” Then he swept out of the office, singing under his breath, “ _Transformers, robots in disguise_ …”

            Tim stared after him. And then he looked back at Damian, who was covering his face with one hand, legs awkwardly positioned; he glanced down at Damian’s lap, suddenly acutely aware of a noticeable bulge there. He looked away abruptly, both of them flushing furiously red.

            Tam Fox appeared at the doorway to her office, smoothing back her hair, dabbing at her lipstick with the inside of her wrist. She strode out to Tim, clutching a few sheets of paper. “Hey,” she said breathlessly. “That report you wanted. Sorry it’s a little late.”

            She glanced between the two of them – she, too, noticed Damian’s uncompromising erection, but chose to say nothing, instead giving him an unsteady smile and heading back into her office.

            Once the Transformers theme ended, the intro to Jem and the Holograms began. It played between the two of them.

            And then Tim said, almost numbly, “I think…I’m gonna go home now.”

            “Yes,” said Damian. “Excellent. Absolutely.”

            “You don’t want a ride, do you?”

            “I do not. Not at all.”

            “OK.”

            “OK. I’ll sit here and take a hard look at the life choices which have led up to this moment.”

            “OK. Good. Goodnight, Damian.”

            “Goodnight.”

            Tim left, and Damian was in the office, the Jem theme song filling the silence, just him and his wilting boner.


End file.
